Ignotæ Magicae
by Heensta
Summary: Hermione encounters the man she's been fighting her whole life. He doesn't quite understand why she hates him, but is determined to find a way to change that. Review pretty please(:
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N)** Hello! So this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I'll admit, I'm not the best author out there, but, hey, I tried. Um, anyway, enjoy. And please review, I love constructive criticism. Also, a giant thank you to Lisa Michelini, one of my best friends and perhaps the best editor anyone could ever ask for.

**Chapter One**

The night air was cool against her pale face as she stepped gingerly through the forest undergrowth. She disregarded that nobody would be able to hear or see her anyway, due to a disillusionment charm and a silencing charm she had placed on herself earlier. Extra caution was never a bad idea. Her wand was gripped tightly by her side, and she looked for any signs of life amongst the towering trees. It was a week after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Hermione, being one of the few uninjured fighters, had been sent to look in the Forbidden Forest for any refugees or hidden Death Eaters. She had come in a small group along with Neville, who had recovered quickly, Luna, and Ginny. They had split up to cover more ground, but Hermione couldn't help but feel dreadfully alone.

She knew that there were quite a few Death Eaters that had mysteriously disappeared after the battle, and were probably lurking around the school, waiting to foolishly attack again, trying to cling to whatever morale they had left. It was likely that they would dissipate after a while, but Kingsley urged them to find anyone they could to bring justice down upon them. She walked past the corpses of a couple first years who appeared to have been killed as they sought a safe haven from all the fighting. Hermione's breath wavered as she knelt down and placed a thin chain around their necks, one of the many potential portkeys she was carrying around with her. She whispered the incantation in a soft voice, "_portus_," and sent the two back to the Great Hall.

Minutes later, she stepped into a small man-made clearing. There was dried blood on the mossy ground, and clear evidence of a campfire. She reached down and let some of the ashes sift through her fingers. To her surprise, they were still warm. She mused for a while on the fact, when she was roughly brought out of her reverie by a rough, bellowing voice.

"Who's there?" Hermione froze, slowly turning to face her aggressor, her eyes wide in trepidation, mouth slightly ajar. She fell back with in shock as she stared right into the eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange. He was searching the clearing, eyes narrowed, looking right through her. She stood and turned to run for help, when her protective spells were broken.

"_Finite Incantatem_," The half-crazed Death Eater tilted his head towards her with a smirk. "Well, what have we here?" he took steady, deliberate steps towards her, his wand casually held between two fingers. "The precocious mudblood from before, eh?" He was now barely a foot away from her, wand pressed under her chin. Hermione staggered away, looking up into a pair of demented eyes that leered down at her mockingly.

"Try as you might, there's nothing you can do," she stated, startling herself with how robustly the words came out, continuing to step back. "We've defeated you. Voldemort's dead." His face turned rigid with anger.

"You dare take his name?" he snarled.

"We've killed your wife," she added on, now pressed against a tree and fearing for her life. He glared at the girl, raised his wand, his mouth forming a curse.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" Hermione let out a shriek as he fell to the ground. She didn't want to believe what she had just done. She carefully prodded him with her toe, expecting him to get up and murder her. When he made no sign of movement, she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the tree, sinking to her knees. She had just killed a human being. Fingers knitting through bushy hair, she groaned in frustration. How could she have done that? How could she have lost control so easily? How could she have _killed_ him?

A sob formed in the back of her throat, and for the first time since the battle, she cried. She cried over the deaths of Fred and Tonks and Lupin and of countless others whose faces swam before her eyes. She was letting out all of her frustration and remorse. Tears sprang from her eyes before she could stop them. After all this time, holding everything back, she didn't want to stop them.

**_..o0O0o.._**

Bane shifted uncomfortably as he talked with his peers from behind the trees.

"When do we strike?" the words fell from his lips before he could think about what he was saying.

"Are you suggesting that we allow ourselves to be drawn in to the humans' conflict and lower ourselves to their darkness?" Magorian trembled with rage looking down at his clan-member.

"N-no. Simply to punish those who need to be faced with the consequences of their actions,"

"Silence, Bane," another one of the centaurs stepped closer. "Not all humans are the same," Magorian turned around to face the startlingly blue eyed centaur who had just spoke.

"Of course. How very likely of you to say that, Firenze. You'd even let them ride you, like a common mule."

"He's right, Magorian" a fourth centaur joined the conversation, red tail flicking calmly behind him. "You remember the Granger girl? She saved your life. You would do well to remember that."

"Ronan, they killed your brothers, your father, your children. How can you stand to defend them when-" Magorian was cut off by a rustling in the trees. The man had returned, and it was now time to go and carry out their plan.

"He's back. Let me at him," Bane shook his wild mane furiously, pushing past Ronan and Firenze. He stopped in awe. It wasn't the man. It was a girl, the Granger girl, looking around precariously. He quickly stepped back into the shadows, glaring at her form.

Firenze strode closer to the edge of the clearing, confused. She was clearly disillusioned, hiding from someone. Being a centaur, he could see through the protective incantation. He watched as she gently picked up a small handful of the ashes the man had left behind. A bemused look appeared on the girl's face, pondering over something. Firenze had seen that look countless times before in his classes.

From the opposite side of the clearing, the man stumbled through. Sensing someone's presence, he drew his wand out. Firenze grimaced at the sight of the man's black aura. He had done terrible things; unspeakable things. He turned to see Ronan again restraining Bane from rushing out and trampling the man.

The Granger girl was unaware of the man's threatening proximity. Firenze had half a mind of taking her away to safety. She let the rest of the ashes fall from between her slender fingers. That was when the man smelled something like mint in the air.

"Who's there?" he asked, before sending out a quick spell, revealing a shell-shocked Hermione. Firenze shut his eyes not wanting to watch the confrontation. The man called her foul things, and then the centaur heard the two words he dreaded the most. He opened his eyes a few seconds after the killing-curse had been said. To his utter astonishment, it was not the girl that had fallen, but the man. He faced the three centaurs behind him, two looking murderous, the other greatly disappointed.

"I told you the humans weren't to be trusted," Magorian spat.

"As we no longer have the man at our disposal, we might as well use the girl. Evidently, she isn't as innocent as we thought, either." Bane added harshly. Firenze turned to Ronan in a plea for help, but he avoided his gaze.

As Firenze turned back to the girl, he found her crying desperately. Before he knew it, the other centaurs had shifted so that they formed a circle around the clearing. As the last centaurs in the forest, they summoned the magic of the stars and galaxies, concentrating all of their power solely onto the task at hand. Ronan sent Firenze a last, apologetic look as he too joined in. Firenze had no choice left but to accompany his clan-members. The last thing he saw of the girl was a heart wrenching, doleful, sobbing mess. Then she disappeared.

**(A/N) **So there it is. The first chapter. I wonder what the centaurs did... o_0 Read on to find out! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N) **Have fun reading this one. It was sort of hard to write...

**Chapter Two**

Firenze took sorrow in what he had participated in, but he was aware that no matter what happened next, the present situation couldn't get any worse. It was for the greater good. Their plan was complete. They had sent the Granger girl back to fix the problem at hand from its very roots. She probably had no idea of where she was or what she was supposed to do, but given her intellectual nature, Firenze knew she would be fine. Or at least he hoped so; she was their last chance.

As Bane openly expressed his extreme displeasure that he had not been given the chance to avenge the deaths of his family, Firenze silently prayed that the Granger girl would be alright.

**_..o0O0o.._**

Hermione awoke with a start, still in the Forbidden Forest. The night gloom had been replaced by late-afternoon light. The first thing she noticed was the absence of the clearing where she had fallen asleep. In its place rose several trees, similar to the one she was leaning against. That particular tree was the exactly the same as before, albeit slightly shorter. As she looked around, all of the trees looked shorter and somewhat younger. She pushed the thought away, deeming it a mere trick of the light. They couldn't actually have shrunk. But then again, where had the clearing gone?

She stood up and brushed herself off. Glancing around at the moss-covered trees, she realized she didn't know her way back to the castle. Pulling her wand from her coat pocket, she cast a quick "_scourgify_," on herself.

Hermione realized that the sky was brighter than it usually was around this time of the year. A glance at the sun told her that it, too, was slightly off. From prior knowledge, she knew that the Forbidden Forest was northeast of Hogwarts, so she turned and walked away from the sun, slightly veering right.

The walk through the forest was calming, and she took her time indulging in the green-bathed light. She couldn't help but notice that the Forest itself looked different, younger, fresher, more alive than it had the night before. There were flowers in bloom amongst the dewy undergrowth, perfuming the air with their sweet scent. Regardless, she couldn't help but feel that something was strangely out of place.

Evening approached and Hermione caught a glance of the Astronomy Tower. She sighed contentedly, happy she was almost home. Then realization struck her; the Astronomy Tower had been destroyed during the battle.

Her pace quickened as she rushed towards the castle, her curiosity teeming. Minutes later, she stepped out of the Forest into where Hagrid's Hut should have been. Instead, a large pile of firewood lay stacked out neatly into a pyramid. Walking through the pumpkin patch, her jaw dropped in awe. The castle, by some miracle, was completely restored. The windows of the Great Hall glowed in the twilight, showing no sign that it had just been destroyed a week ago. Even more surprisingly, she could have sworn she heard the sound of hundreds of people eating and chatting happily inside.

Hermione ran to the Entrance Hall, eager to see her friends again. She stopped at the doors, suddenly afraid. What if they found out what she done in the forest? What if they found out that she had _killed_ someone?

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and immediately regretted it. Gone were the lines of makeshift beds and injured fighters. Gone was the rubble and the gloom that had taken over in the past week. Instead, it was the first day of the school year. The house tables were back, filled with students, nonchalantly eating their dinner, some turning to stare at her inquisitively. The whole hall was decorated for the Welcoming Feast. The enchanted ceiling showed a perfect starry night, the walls lit with the customary candles, the tables' dark wood as shiny as ever. A glance revealed that she didn't know a single person in the room. The Gryffindor table did not seat her friends, but a whole new set of people. People she hadn't seen in her entire life were staring at her, gossiping about her to their recently reunited friends. She looked up at the teachers' table and her heart stopped.

Sitting in the Headmaster's chair was a man she only recognized from her books. To his right, sat a man she knew was dead. A man whose funeral she had mournfully attended. A man she hadn't seen in a year.

Ignoring the bewilderedness of the students and staff, Hermione walked quickly through the tables up to Albus Dumbledore.

However, this Dumbledore was not the same man she had come to know in the past six years before his death. His hair and beard were shorter, coming to an abrupt end near his shoulders. The usual silvery color to them had gone as well, now a rich auburn. His faced wasn't as lined as she remembered it, either. As Hermione looked up, she was relieved to see the familiar blue eyes twinkling at her.

"Professor Dumbledore, I need to talk to you," she whispered urgently. The wizard in front of her nodded slowly, as if trying to comprehend the simple request. He turned away, looking to the man at his left.

"Forgive me Armando, I must excuse myself,"

"It's quite alright, Albus. Good evening."

"Good evening," And with that, they left the Great Hall for the Transfiguration Office.

**(A/N) **So... Yeah, here you go. The next chapter. I'll try to update soon. Please review, it would mean a lot to me(:


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N) **Happy Fourth of July to all American fans! I hope you enjoy this one. I think Hermione's a little... emotionally unstable. xD

**Chapter Three**

Hermione sat in an armchair in front of Dumbledore's cluttered desk. She smiled as she recognized most of the strange objects whizzing about in the background from his old office. Or his new office. She wasn't quite sure. She waited as the man shuffled some papers around and finally looked at her, ready.

"Where are we?" She began, knowing full well how stupid she must sound. Dumbledore's eyes gave away contained laughter, but he answered her seriously.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Although something tells me that's not the answer you were looking for." Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she simply sat there and blinked at the professor, taking in a deep breath. "What brings you here, Miss...?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger," She suddenly remembered her manners and reached a hand across the table to shake. Dumbledore accepted, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that his own was clean and flesh-toned, compared to how it had been the last time she saw it. She shuddered involuntarily, remembering the evil of the ring and of the man to whom it had once belonged. Seeing this, Dumbledore withdrew and peered at her inquisitively, but he said nothing.

Hermione looked down at the desk, ashamed for losing her composure. Her eye caught on an old copy of the Daily Prophet, the bolded words "GRINDELWALD STRIKES AGAIN" printed large across the top, over a picture of the dark wizard smirking mischievously up at her. The newspaper was dated September 1st, 1944.

"You seem to be finding it peculiar," Dumbledore observed.

"It's just, it's quite old isn't it?" Hermione asked him, interested.

"Old is a term regarding matter of perception. I may seem old to half the school, but quite young to my friend Nicholas," he watched her for a response, a tad surprised when she showed recognition at the name. "It was published this morning."

Hermione felt sick. This wasn't possible. Before she could stop herself, a bubble of nervous laughter escaped her lips. She giggled and cackled until her lungs hurt. Finally, with a deep breath of air, she looked at Dumbledore, eyes wide, reeling forward on her chair. Suddenly serious, she spoke, her voice shaking with trepidation.

"Am I dead?" Dumbledore showed no sign of expression.

"Well, I can assure you that I am fully alive," he responded sullenly. Hermione's eyes began to brim with tears, her mind grasping the current situation.

"Oh, Merlin," she whispered.

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?"

"I-I don't know,"

"Where are you from?"

"I can show you, if you don't mind," and with that, she poured her mind into his, allowing his occlumency to graze through her memories, carefully steering him away from things she'd rather have him not see, such as her dance with Viktor at the Yule Ball, and her embraces with Ron. He observed her go through her first quidditch match, catching Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, helping Harry with the tri-wizard tournament, fighting in the Ministry, his own funeral, the Battle of Hogwarts, and finally, the encounter with Rodolphus.

When he finally withdrew, his face was grim, the sparkle gone from his eyes.

"So it's true. You have no idea what you're doing here," Hermione shook her head as her forming tears threatened to fall. "You are a brilliant witch, no doubt. The brightest of your age, if I remember myself correctly. Whatever sent you back here was extremely powerful, and they must have done so with reason," He looked at her almost pitifully.

"You can join the other seventh years, if you wish," Hermione wanted to continue asking questions, but she restrained herself and agreed, finally being able to finish her schooling. They spent the rest of the night discussing classes and other things before he sent her off to her common room.

Hermione tiredly walked through Hogwarts, finding the portrait of the Fat Lady and giving her the password Dumbledore had written down. She stepped into the Common Room for the first time in a very long time.

**(A/N) ** So that's that, then. Again, reviews would be greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N) **Sorry for the increasingly short chapters, I promise that the next one will be a bit longer. This chapter is sort of a filler. Nevertheless, I hope you all are pleased so far. Thanks for reading!(:

**Chapter Four**

Upon entering the Common Room, Hermione felt a wave of memories rush over her.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, everyone had been busy with healing the injured, burying the dead, and repairing the castle. They had often spent the nights wherever they found themselves too tired to continue. This was usually the Great Hall, an empty classroom, on the cold stone floor amongst the rubble, and most recently, the Forbidden Forest. For Hermione, these nights were spent sleeplessly or with terrifying nightmares of the recent events; there was no middle ground. There could be no middle ground, not after everything that had happened.

The Common Room itself had been wrecked, the Fat Lady's portrait torn, the armchairs pouring their stuffing onto the begrimed carpet, everything out of place.

Which is why, upon entering the room now, she was reminded of the times she spent studying with Harry and Ron on the sofas, the midnight talks by the fire, and Fred and George pulling pranks every now and then. Her heart twanged as an unwanted memory of Fred's corpse floated into her head.

The room looked as though the war had never happened. Which, Hermione reminded herself, technically hadn't. The red and gold furnishings gleamed at her welcomingly in the light from the fireplace. The fire itself, so warm and comforting, that she found herself curling up on a chair in front of it, finally able to rest peacefully.

**_..o0O0o.._**

Albus Dumbledore paced in his office, unable to calm his nerves. He had seen things no one was ever meant to see. He had seen the future. He had watched himself fighting an unknown enemy, one nearly as powerful as himself. He had seen a young man, who had stopped the greatest dark wizard yet to come as an infant, grow up facing terrifying situations. He had seen his own funeral, his own corpse surrounded by people who had cared for him. He had seen perhaps the largest battle in Hogwarts history, the magnificent castle reduced to a stony graveyard.

And that evening, he had seen a girl from 54 years in the future turn up in the Great Hall during the Welcoming Feast, demanding to talk to him, addressing him by name, when he hadn't a clue who she was.

Dumbledore prided himself in being wise, but he couldn't understand how someone would have gotten enough magic to bend time to such a large degree. Time Turners worked brilliantly, but only up to a certain extent. 54 years was a gap much too large for any machine, or any human.

Unless the source wasn't human. He stopped walking abruptly, thinking of all the possible creatures that could have done so. The Phoenix was one (oh, how he longed to own such a magnificent bird), but could not have thought of such a plan by itself. No, the creature would have to have had some form of human intuition, some deeper purpose. Pixies had their own intentions, and were constantly pulling tricks on humans, but weren't nearly capable for such magic.

Realization struck him. The only creatures strong enough for powerful magic and adept for human thought were right under his crooked nose. In fact, they thrived within Hogwarts grounds. They were definitely able to send Miss Granger back in time.

But why would they send her? How was she going to change the course of history? Did she even know what to do?

He sat down at his desk, took off his glasses, and massaged his temples. Though he would never admit it, Dumbledore certainly didn't have a clue.

**(A/N)**Yeah, this chapter was short. Hopefully I'm not boring you guys. I felt as though some of the details were necessary to lead into the next chapter. Thank you for reading, please review. I love you all!(:


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N) **Well, it has been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for the delay, and hope you aren't too mad at me. This chapter is very important to the story line, and I wanted it to be just perfect for you guys. Unfortunately, it got a little too long, so I've had to split it into two chapters. Also, I'm going to have to thank **Genuinely-Unique** for her ingenious title suggestion. **Ignotæ Magicae** means An Unknown Magic, referring to the centaurs, and to the magic of love. I also want to thank **Mayle** for being there for when I wasn't quite sure about things, and my dear friend Karolina for being a great editor. Alright, this has been long enough. Enjoy!(:

**Chapter Five**

The next morning found Hermione curled up on the armchair by the fire, somewhat resembling a cat. To an observer, she would look peaceful and sedated. And there were observers.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, there were about half a dozen boys, all looking curiously at the stranger in their common room. They all stepped backwards when she stirred, awaking from the best slumber she'd had in a while. She shut her eyelids tightly against the blinding morning sun as it creeped through the velvet curtains of the large Common Room windows. Last night had been wonderful and dreamless, and had left her feeling very much refreshed.

She was quickly brought out of her pseudo-solitude when a voice loudly greeted her.

"'Ello!" Hermione screamed as she snapped awake, finding a pair of eager blue eyes, inches away from her own.

"Sorry about that. Who are you?" The grinning boy retreated slightly, allowing Hermione to stand up and notice the other people in the room. They were all about her age, except for one who looked to be in his sixth year.

"Hermione Granger. Seventh year. I'm new," she smiled weakly at the boy who offered her his hand.

"I'm Fabian, Fabian Prewett." he said. He was on the short side, only an inch or so taller than Hermione. He had curly, brown hair which stood almost comically atop his head. "And this is my little brother, Gideon." The smaller boy stepped up, shaking her hand and giving her a quick hello.

The other boys began to introduce themselves. There was tall Billius Weasley, whose red hair and long nose painfully reminded her of Ron. There was a slightly pudgy boy named Edward Blishwick, who asked to be called Ed. There was Louis McLaggen, tall with teal eyes and light brown hair, and standing near the back was Joseph Longbottom, a shorter boy with deep brown eyes and a deeper voice.

"We were just about to head down to breakfast when we noticed you. Fabian thought it'd be funny to see if you'd wake up or not," Louis offered, slightly apologetic, his voice tinged with a Yorkshire accent. Of all the Gryffindor 7th years, he seemed to be in command, with Billius right by his side. The two appeared to be joined at the hip, and were constantly finding some way to be touching each other, an arm thrown across a shoulder, or a hand gently placed on a knee. "You can join us, if you'd like."

"I think I'll go upstairs and get settled in, first," Hermione replied, smiling broadly at her new friends.

"That's alright. We'll wait here for you; Fabian was going to tell us something about his mum being preggers or summat," Billius sent a teasing look over at Fabian, who visibly reddened.

Hermione climbed the steps up to the girls' dormitory and paused, her hand on the door knob, remembering the people she had once shared it with. Romilda, Lavender; even though they had annoyed her most of the time, she still missed them. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open, almost immediately regretting it.

Four girls, who had been gossiping about someone named Abraxas, turned to stare at her with a mixture of haughtiness, contempt, and confusion. The leader, or so Hermione assumed from her position in the middle, rose slowly and delicately, from her smooth bedspread to stand in front of Hermione. She was about three inches taller than her and had a thin, bony structure. There was a slight familiarity to her face. She tossed back her long, dark hair and stared down at Hermione.

"What are you doing here?" the girl sneered, glancing at Hermione quickly scanning her appearance. Her frown deepened. Hermione suddenly felt very self-conscious. She hadn't exactly bathed since the Battle, only a quick scourgify every now and then to get rid of the blood and excess dirt. Her hair was its usual bushy mess, and compared to the shine of the tall girl's hair, it wasn't at all glamorous.

Nonetheless, Hermione wasn't the kind to get intimidated by a bunch of catty, sheltered, harlequins. She straightened up and looked the girl straight in the eyes.

"I live here. I'm a new student," she shot the girl a false smile, hoping that she would leave her.

"Oh. Well, don't bother us again," the girl walked back to her friends and they all immediately began to whisper again. Hermione took a quick look around at the room. It, too, was exactly the same as before, with the exception of the inhabitants and their personal belongings. All of the beds were taken and decorated with frilly laces and silks except for the one farthest from the door, alone in a corner.

She made her way over to the bed and found a trunk full with textbooks, quills, and parchment. Dumbledore had arranged for some house elves to fetch supplies for her, seeing as she only had her wand. On top of the bed, there were about five pairs of school shirts, all crisp white linen. There was a set of robes, three skirts, two school jumpers, and the usual socks, scarves, ties, and shoes. There was also a small bag containing a few coins.

Lugging the large trunk onto the bed, she closed the curtains around her and began to go through the textbooks. They were all very old, but still in mint condition. She lifted the open pages to her nose, inhaling the pleasantly musty smell. After sorting through her things and casting an undetectable extension spell on the small bag, so that it would carry all her school belongings, she picked up a few pieces of clothing to change into.

She left the dorm, walking with her head up and ignoring her roommates. She showered quickly, tried to smooth out her hair, and changed into her uniform. She frowned at its outdatedness. The skirt uncomfortably reached below her knees, and the socks came above her knees. The blouse was loose and unshapely, and she felt as though she was drowning in the fabric. With a quick spell, she shortened the skirt about four inches and fitted the shirt. The socks, she felt, could come in handy during the winter, so she simply folded the tops down. She pulled on her robes and pocketed her wand.

**(A/N) **Sorry for the weird ending. I'll be posting the next chapter soon. And isn't that girl quaint? Happy Ramadan to all Muslim readers! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N)** Another chapter, yay! This one is rather short. Which is not very good for a chapter so important. Why is it so important? Read and find out!(:

**Chapter Six**

Hermione rushed downstairs and found the boys waiting impatiently. Louis was sitting on top of Billius in an armchair, straddling him and affectionately prodding at his nose with a long finger. Fabian and Gideon were practically wrestling over a Chocolate Frog card, whilst Ed cheered them on. Joseph sat quietly reading by himself. As she watched them from the stairs, she couldn't help but remember all the times she'd had with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and all of her old friends.

Finally, Louis withdrew from Billius for just enough time to notice Hermione standing there.

"Well, it took you long enough!" he exclaimed, bounding towards the door. "I'm famished!" The rest of the boys followed him out, Fabian winning the card from his little brother, and Hermione followed them reluctantly, still lost in her thoughts. On the way to the Great Hall, the boys told her a lot about the school, most of which she already knew. After all, she'd read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover almost a dozen times. They named the students that passed by, giving her a brief description of them, oftentimes rather insulting. The tall girl from her dorm walked past with a few of her friends, and Joseph immediately perked up, watching her go.

"That's Augusta Brown. Head Girl. She's from a really rich pureblood family. Joe fancies her..." At this, the boys burst into laughter and Joseph flushed. "I think you might have already met her," Ed explained.

"Yeah. Unfortunately."

"She's kind of..."

"A sodding git?" Fabian pitched in. "She won't talk to anyone unless they're just as high and mighty as she is." Joseph scowled at that last remark.

"Let's not waste our breath talking about her, shall we?" Billius quickly ended the conversation as they reached the Great Hall.

"Yeah, we're going to miss breakfast!" Louis bounded to the front of the group and pushed open the large doors open. Hermione immediately felt dozens of eyes turn and fixate on her. She hesitated, not sure if she wanted breakfast anymore. The boys pushed her forward and they walked towards the Gryffindor table together.

They sat down and Bilius quickly began to stuff his face full with eggs and sausages. Louis, sitting next to him, looked at him reproachfully and then started to carefully spread butter on his toast. Fabian and Gideon were throwing pieces of hashbrown across the table and into each other's mouths. Joe pulled his book out and began to read until Ed snatched it away and told him to eat.

Hermione watched them as she picked at her pancakes. She felt very uncomfortable with all the people staring at her. The boys obviously didn't notice, but she was sure that she could feel the eyes on her. Some of the people at the Gryffindor table were friendly enough to come over and say hello. She met a few younger students that she recognized as the family of her former classmates, stifling laughter at Robert Thomas and Samuel Wood. She wished she could tell Dean that his father was in fact a wizard.

Ten minutes before the nine o'clock bell, as everyone was getting ready to go to class, Dippet stood up.

"Pardon the interruption. I'm sure quite a few of you have noticed a new student in our school." The whole school turned to look at Hermione, her face turning red. "I'd like to welcome Miss Hermione Granger to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Miss Granger is a seventh-year transfer from Beauxbatons Academy and will be joining us this year because of difficulties with the wars in France. I know that you will all welcome her warmly to our fine establishment."

He began to applaud, the rest of the Hall slowly joining in until everyone was clapping for her. Hermione giggled at Dumbledore's fabricated excuse, at the same time as she nearly died of embarrassment. She tried to hide behind Louis, but he backed away and bowed to her in mock reverence.

As they left the Great Hall, many more students introduced themselves: Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even a few Slytherins. On her way past the doors, a tall, handsome boy passed by, making eye contact for about a second. Her interest at a peak, she asked Eddie who he was.

"That's our Slytherin prince: Head Boy, Mr. Tom Riddle," he answered with a sarcastic hint to his voice. None of the boys could explain the panicked, hateful look on Hermione's face.

**(A/N)** The first encounter! :O


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N) **Here's the next chapter. I went back and changed some things in the other chapters, so if you've been reading all along, you might get confused. If not, then carry on and pay this message no heed. Also, this is all from Tom's point of view, so... Enjoy!

**Chapter Seven**

He had been sitting there last night at the Opening Feast, silently chewing his mashed potatoes and drowning out the other Slytherins' useless babble. He had been savoring the richness of the food, comparing it to the gruel they served at the orphanage. He hated the place. Every summer, he was forced to return to the shabby building where everyone thought he was troubled or had special needs. His grip on the spoon tightened, smirking to himself. _If only they knew._

Tom had been lost in his thoughts until Malfoy stopped talking, catching his attention. Abraxas Malfoy barely ever stopped talking about himself, and there was always some bimbo there to listen to him. He was quite popular with the ladies, another thing that he would not ever cease boasting about. He wasn't all too bad looking, either. Just not anything to compare with Tom's features.

Abraxas was staring at the doors of the Great Hall. Tom followed his gaze to a frizzy haired young woman covered with blood and dirt who was standing at the entrance to the Great Hall and staring at everything in confusion and wonder. His eyebrows rose involuntarily in surprise. She was wearing pants that were much tighter than any he'd seen on a female before, her jumper barely reaching her waistband.

Even more shockingly, she strutted towards the teachers' table with utmost confidence, unusual for someone with such a displeasing appearance, and began to talk to the Transfiguration teacher as if she knew him. They then left the hall, leaving all the students watching in bewilderment.

Tom reached for a dinner roll, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Within seconds, Abraxas was talking again.

**_..o0O0o.._**

Tom awoke the next morning feeling quite calm. Right away, he could tell it was going to be a good first day. He patrolled the hallways for a while as part of his Head Boy duties before heading to breakfast. He took his usual spot in the middle of the Slytherin table, surrounded by people he liked to think of as his followers. They weren't friends, heavens no (friendship and love made a person weak, after all), but adherents. Yes, adherents seemed like the perfect term.

Tom watched them boredly, indifferent to their childish antics. Nott and Lestrange were sitting to his left and right sides, respectively; Avery, Mulciber, and Dolohov adjacent.

They talked of their classes and of the Gryffindors they would have to endure for one more year. They were all very smart, but in the typical Slytherin way: the only subjects they were any good at were Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, they had a sense of slyness: a sharp, cunning edge that had just barely convinced Tom to spend his precious time with them.

Malfoy and Alphard Black sat a little further along the table. Tom found their company displeasing, and they had previously voiced their disdain for "filthy halfbloods," like himself. Although, they had been punished for that particular incident quite severely. A cruel smile appeared on Tom's face at the memory. He doubted they would ever say that to his face again. Or, he hoped so, for their sake.

Malfoy was the loud one. He talked endlessly and thoughtlessly, oftentimes saying things he would later regret. He had a habit of combing his white-blond hair back, away from his large forehead and impossibly pointy nose. Girls fawned over his blue eyes and pure ancestry, wanting to be the one to help continue his spotless bloodline. Tom found him dreadfully annoying.

Black was the strong and silent type. He rarely ever spoke, which Tom thought was a blessing, as it prevented him from making a fool of himself. He wasn't very bright, but he boasted an enviable family tree and wealth beyond measure. What he lacked in brains, he made up in brawn. He rippled with muscle, which would have been a considerable advantage if he could think fast enough to throw a punch before an opponent simply walked away.

The two had made it their life's goal to ridicule and belittle anyone who wasn't a pureblood. As Tom took a swig of pumpkin juice, he heard them arguing for what must have been the umpteenth billionth time over whose blood was purer. He had half a mind to spill their blood onto the floor so that they could compare it.

He was thinking of a dozen or so spells that would do the trick when the doors to the Great Hall opened. The Gryffindor gang walked in, late as usual. This time, however, the strange girl from before was with them, cleaner than she had been, her hair still a birds' nest, clad in red and gold embroidered robes. _Who is she_?

After a few minutes of watching her meet other students, he found out. The headmaster stood up and introduced her as a new seventh year. Hermany Granjur? She had come to Hogwarts from France because of the wars. Tom set his jaw. Grindelwald was running rampant there, not to mention the Muggle war. He almost felt bad for her, but quickly shook it off. Pity was also a weakness.

After breakfast, he decided to get to his class early, wanting to make a good first impression. On his way out, he passed the new girl. For a second, his eyes locked with her brown ones. She was quite plain, he noticed. Brown bushy hair, brown eyes, and a pale face. Nothing extraordinarily beautiful.

With that thought, he walked off towards class.

**(A/N)** Isn't that disappointing? I love writing from Tom's point of view. It seems to fit me more. Is that wrong? D:


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